


The Ache Stands Wide

by Starships



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pre-ShB, Soul Sex, Voyeurism, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starships/pseuds/Starships
Summary: Emet-Selch's soul mate has taken a lover, and while he cannot interfere, he also cannot look away.





	The Ache Stands Wide

**Author's Note:**

> For kowalla, who gave the prompt: "make Hades suffer and watch as his soul mate gets fucking rekt by Hien"
> 
> Here you go, bb. All aboard the pain train.

It used to be music, that set him free.

But now, as he watches the creamy tea raise to her lips and her eyebrow lift in wry amusement, he thinks its her -- she is a fermata, and he cannot breathe until she ends.

He does not know what comes after.

She crosses her legs demurely, but it begs a lie -- sixteenth note bells spill from her lips in laughter, a tinkling peal made from a coy _joke_, of all things, instead of ivory keys. It is a hot knife that slips easily between his ribs, her laughter -- it has been eons since it was his, but never has he seen it belong to _someone else_ entirely.

The man sitting across from her is so far beyond cordial he can only be described as an intimate presence, his long tan fingers brushing her golden hair behind her ear, his jade eyes dancing as she eats and laughs and consumes the offerings of attention he places at her feet.

This shard of a man his Empire had broken, and yet it is his body that takes her tea and sets it on the dark chestnut table between them, his wild hair she reaches to untie, his scarlet ribbon that drifts forgotten to the floor like a stanza that was never written.

His body that is so familiar with removing her armor.

Hades should leave, but even watching her be devoured by another is still _her_, still her light seeping into his empty bones, and with his eyes closed perhaps the lilt of her moans will still ring against the walls as though they are for _him_.

He can't stop himself from moving closer, watching over the wayward prince's broad shoulders, staring as her nails rend bright lines along his spine. He is staring at the Doom and he is opening his arms wide, welcoming the fire into his chest, whimpers wrenching from his throat, off beat, the brilliance of her soul shining through her naked skin and her grunts as she is entered a staccato pulse inside of him.

He is pinned down here, unseen, unheard, his silence ringing violently against their noise.

She flips them over, riding her paramour, muscles of her hips and back rippling like the sea as the tide rises fast. He is enraptured, fingertips tracing the edges of her soul, and she shudders as though she is coming undone as specks of light.

She can _feel_ him, he realizes, and like a starving wolf he pushes forward, pushes inside of her, and her neck cranes back as she howls. He is a beast of greed but he cannot stop, _she can feel him_, and now he is inside of their song, he is stretched wide by a deliciously curved cock, he is torn and split between two crashing waves, he is reaching --

_She_ is reaching.

She is reaching for him.

Hien is thumbing her clit and if he could eat this man alive and flay him for touching her, he would. His heart curls at the bitter taste of her happiness for another, but he drinks of her all the same, parched as he is.

He is petty, and dirty, and starved.

He thrusts himself inside of her nervous system, her mind glittering like the thousands of windows of the Capitol, and he bids her to come before this broken, fractured thing she has given the honor of her touch can bring her over the edge himself.

His soul sings, _screams_, when she does, a startled shout wringing from her tired throat like the slam of his piano keys when he had fucked her on them, heedless of the damage, laughing as the wood creaked beneath their bodies, a sloppy push and pull in the home they had shared that had always, always, always been warm.

He had spent days repairing the piano.

He wonders, this time, how long it would take to repair him.

He holds her soul as she shakes, he wrings every drop of pleasure from her and pours even more into them both, and he knows that however long it is, it is longer than he has.

He will not come back from this, and he will not live to hear her long, tremulous fermata ring in the halls of their home.

If scraps are what are left to him in this forsaken place, then he will beg, he will eat from the tips of her fingers, and he will gorge on the bitter taste his life has left behind.


End file.
